#python from scratch

[tpointtechblog]

What is the Purpose of Python training?

The purpose of Python training is to teach you the basics of the Python programming language. Python is a general-purpose programming language that is used for a variety of tasks, including: Web development Data science Machine learning Artificial intelligence Automation Python is a popular choice for beginners because it is easy to learn and use. It is also a powerful language that can be…

[gio-scrabbles]

⚔️“‘Tis But A Scratch.”☠️

A final I made for my 3D animation class. Yes, i used that one clip from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and yes, I included Valor, my knight OC from one of my BWW AUs, but bald due to their hair clipping through their body.

The reason why Valor is here is because this is exactly how they would handle this type of situation. Especially if one of their arms were severed, though they can grow it back instantly. It’s also funnier imagining the guy on the left being Balan.

[poppy5991]

If you ever feel like whatever you’re going through is not bad enough to warrant therapy or it’s not serious enough compared to whatever people are going through, I’m here to inform you that your brain is lying and has probably tried to normalize a crazy situation as a coping mechanism. If you feel like you might need it, go get the therapy, fam.

I worked the entire pandemic from start to finish and around October 2020, I started to suspect I had PTSD. But also doubted myself. I was like ‘well it’s not bad! Especially compared to what other colleagues have been through. What if I’m faking it or just being dramatic?’

Then when I met the therapist she literally said “It amazes me that you are still functioning at this level. Most people would have had a breakdown by now.”

Anyway…recently my boss was reviewing numbers for a report and she said to me, “Did you know that in the single month of December 2020, you worked on over 300 COVID deaths?”

And I was like, well JFC no wonder I had PTSD…

[education43]

What Are the Qualifications for a Data Scientist?

In today's data-driven world, the role of a data scientist has become one of the most coveted career paths. With businesses relying on data for decision-making, understanding customer behavior, and improving products, the demand for skilled professionals who can analyze, interpret, and extract value from data is at an all-time high. If you're wondering what qualifications are needed to become a successful data scientist, how DataCouncil can help you get there, and why a data science course in Pune is a great option, this blog has the answers.

The Key Qualifications for a Data Scientist

To succeed as a data scientist, a mix of technical skills, education, and hands-on experience is essential. Here are the core qualifications required:

1. Educational Background

A strong foundation in mathematics, statistics, or computer science is typically expected. Most data scientists hold at least a bachelor’s degree in one of these fields, with many pursuing higher education such as a master's or a Ph.D. A data science course in Pune with DataCouncil can bridge this gap, offering the academic and practical knowledge required for a strong start in the industry.

2. Proficiency in Programming Languages

Programming is at the heart of data science. You need to be comfortable with languages like Python, R, and SQL, which are widely used for data analysis, machine learning, and database management. A comprehensive data science course in Pune will teach these programming skills from scratch, ensuring you become proficient in coding for data science tasks.

3. Understanding of Machine Learning

Data scientists must have a solid grasp of machine learning techniques and algorithms such as regression, clustering, and decision trees. By enrolling in a DataCouncil course, you'll learn how to implement machine learning models to analyze data and make predictions, an essential qualification for landing a data science job.

4. Data Wrangling Skills

Raw data is often messy and unstructured, and a good data scientist needs to be adept at cleaning and processing data before it can be analyzed. DataCouncil's data science course in Pune includes practical training in tools like Pandas and Numpy for effective data wrangling, helping you develop a strong skill set in this critical area.

5. Statistical Knowledge

Statistical analysis forms the backbone of data science. Knowledge of probability, hypothesis testing, and statistical modeling allows data scientists to draw meaningful insights from data. A structured data science course in Pune offers the theoretical and practical aspects of statistics required to excel.

6. Communication and Data Visualization Skills

Being able to explain your findings in a clear and concise manner is crucial. Data scientists often need to communicate with non-technical stakeholders, making tools like Tableau, Power BI, and Matplotlib essential for creating insightful visualizations. DataCouncil’s data science course in Pune includes modules on data visualization, which can help you present data in a way that’s easy to understand.

7. Domain Knowledge

Apart from technical skills, understanding the industry you work in is a major asset. Whether it’s healthcare, finance, or e-commerce, knowing how data applies within your industry will set you apart from the competition. DataCouncil's data science course in Pune is designed to offer case studies from multiple industries, helping students gain domain-specific insights.

Why Choose DataCouncil for a Data Science Course in Pune?

If you're looking to build a successful career as a data scientist, enrolling in a data science course in Pune with DataCouncil can be your first step toward reaching your goals. Here’s why DataCouncil is the ideal choice:

Comprehensive Curriculum: The course covers everything from the basics of data science to advanced machine learning techniques.

Hands-On Projects: You'll work on real-world projects that mimic the challenges faced by data scientists in various industries.

Experienced Faculty: Learn from industry professionals who have years of experience in data science and analytics.

100% Placement Support: DataCouncil provides job assistance to help you land a data science job in Pune or anywhere else, making it a great investment in your future.

Flexible Learning Options: With both weekday and weekend batches, DataCouncil ensures that you can learn at your own pace without compromising your current commitments.

Conclusion

Becoming a data scientist requires a combination of technical expertise, analytical skills, and industry knowledge. By enrolling in a data science course in Pune with DataCouncil, you can gain all the qualifications you need to thrive in this exciting field. Whether you're a fresher looking to start your career or a professional wanting to upskill, this course will equip you with the knowledge, skills, and practical experience to succeed as a data scientist.

Explore DataCouncil’s offerings today and take the first step toward unlocking a rewarding career in data science! Looking for the best data science course in Pune? DataCouncil offers comprehensive data science classes in Pune, designed to equip you with the skills to excel in this booming field. Our data science course in Pune covers everything from data analysis to machine learning, with competitive data science course fees in Pune. We provide job-oriented programs, making us the best institute for data science in Pune with placement support. Explore online data science training in Pune and take your career to new heights!

[sufficientlylargen]

#Excel is actually a decent editor for writing Java#it makes it very difficult to make some of the most common Java mistakes#like writing code in Java

"Lol"

"Lmao" even.

Is this an "I have written too much Java" emotion or an "I refuse to touch Java" emotion?

I am, perhaps, overstating my aversion to the language - I don't really hate Java, I just don't find it terribly fun to work in (although it's been years since the last time I had to, so maybe IDE advances have made it more palatable now). I've worked on some Java projects that were quite well put together, but I've also seen my share of code with types like ProducerFactory<FactoryProducer, IGatewayFactoryFactory>.

In general if speed is not an essential part of a project I prefer to write in Python for its terseness and extremely effective syntactic sugar (context managers, generators, etc.), and if speed IS essential then various C variants, Rust, or even Go will almost certainly outperform Java. So it's not entirely clear to me why Java is still used outside of legacy code.

[cornsobsessions]

been thinking a lot about chatgpt usage at work today bc my coworker and i were having a discussion about it and i think a lot of it boils down to the fact that people just don’t want to use their brains. like i would rather figure out how to do it myself, give it a shot, even if i don’t really know what im doing all the way and many people just don’t care

[lokiinmediasideblog]

My personality is a shit-ton of arrogance and insecurity fighting over the remote control.

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

It was clear that Angie didn’t understand yet in ‘Blessing of the White Line’

that any sort of injury would summon the banshee from the bowels of the ship.

‘’Tis but a scratch!’

[qubycles]

Best Learning Platform For Developers In India | Learn Python From Scratch

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Bookmark Qubycles today and embark on your path to Python mastery, Visit us at www.qubycles.com

[holyblcd]

@entwinesfate asked " just a few more minutes to let the spell have its effect and you’ll be as good as new, i promise. " gorin knows he shouldn't pry, and yet━ " what, uh, happened exactly? this was a pretty deep cut ... " ( for nuada 😘)

" you didn't have too, but thank you." the cut BURNED as his unholy blood seeped out. for once, the warlock had removed his furry coat, but it still hung over his shoulders. he felt something on the back as well. nuada could imagine the red liquid covering the back of his black shirt, but he had NO desire to show the mark that was hidden beneath. he would rather die than show the symbol of his patron, the demogorgon. the shame was his to wear, even though he might have started a whole new ecosystem on his coat since he scarcely bathed or washed. he was too scared, FRIGHTENED, that someone would see his scar of evil.

the half-orc had rolled up his sleeve so that gorin could take a better look of the wound before casting the spell. " a kobold managed to cut me while i accidentally got caught in one of their traps. " LUCKILY, there had only been three kobolds but they had managed to do some damage while nuada was trapped. he had to use magic to escape, as his weapons had fell down to the ground. he had felt the dark WHISPERS inside his head, the desire for more chaos and blood. " nothing to worry about. "

[teecupangel]

Hey, guys.

So just an update. Everything went fine when I got my shots. The worst thing the nurse said to me was that it was gonna scar (which I don't mind but the nurses apparently do because... idk they think it would make my arm look ugly??? idk)

Anyway, the shots weakened my arms for a bit (good thing I wasn't driving lollol) and I conked out when we got home.

Things were hectic today though (nothing serious, just had to finish a bit of work that I pushed back yesterday to get checked out) so no asks or replies as well, sorry TTATT

Also, the worst news. No Eagle of Alamut update next week. Sooorrrrryyy.

I'll post the next chapter next next week (Jun 17th), promise.

Hey, guys.

Sooooo... due to a series of events, my arm was cut. Nothing serious, a bit of blood but that's about it.

The problem is... well... the thing that cut me was metallic and I can't risk it so I'm getting a tetanus shot after work.

Due to this, I won't be able to reply or answer any asks or reblogs. Sorry, guys. :(

[siyacarla]

How to Build a Chatbot in Python from Scratch?

A chatbot is a computer program designed to have conversations with humans. It can simulate human-like interactions and respond to user queries conversationally. The evolution of chatbots is evident in their various applications, such as customer support, information retrieval, and entertainment.

Python is a popular programming language for building chatbots, known for its simplicity and vast libraries. It provides tools and frameworks that make chatbot development easier and faster.

This article will delve into the step-by-step process of building a chatbot in Python from scratch. We will discuss setting up the development environment, designing the chatbot's logic, and implementing natural language processing capabilities. Additionally, we will explore ways to deploy and test the chatbot for real-world use.

Understanding Natural Language Processing (NLP)

In simple terms, Natural Language Processing (NLP) teaches computers to understand and communicate in human language. It allows machines to read, understand, and respond to input text or speech.

NLP plays a crucial role in chatbot interactions because it enables the chatbot to understand what a user is saying or asking and generate appropriate responses. It helps the chatbot interpret the meaning behind words, detect patterns, and extract relevant information.

There are several libraries and tools available in Python that make it easier to work with NLP. These libraries provide pre-built functions and algorithms that can process text data.

They can help with tasks like tokenizing (splitting text into individual words or sentences), part-of-speech tagging (identifying the grammatical role of each word), named entity recognition (identifying specific types of words like names, dates, or locations), and sentiment analysis (determining the emotional tone of a text).

Designing the Conversation Flow

Designing the conversation flow for a chatbot in Python involves planning how the chatbot will interact with. It would help if you considered how users might talk to the chatbot and what it should do in response. This includes understanding what users want (intents), any specific information they provide (entities), and how the conversation should progress (dialogue scenarios). 

To organize this, you can create conversation trees, which show the different paths the conversation can take, and state machines, which help manage the chatbot's current state and guide its responses. These tools ensure a smooth and meaningful conversation between the chatbot and users.

Data Collection and Preprocessing

Data collection involves gathering relevant training data for the chatbot. This can be done by compiling a set of example conversations or questions and answers. It's important to combine the data to ensure it covers a wide range of possible user inputs.

Preprocessing the text data means preparing it for the chatbot model. This involves removing unnecessary characters, converting text to lowercase, and splitting sentences into individual words. These steps help the model understand and process the data more effectively.

Addressing data quality and bias concerns involves ensuring the training data is accurate, diverse, and unbiased. This helps prevent the chatbot from giving incorrect or unfair responses.

Training and Implementing the Chatbot Model

To train the chatbot model, you must choose a suitable machine learning model, such as a sequence-to-sequence model. This model can understand the sequence of input and generate meaningful responses.

Training the model involves feeding it the preprocessed training data and letting it learn patterns and associations between input and output. This helps the model generate appropriate responses based on user queries.

After training, you evaluate the model's performance by testing it with sample inputs and checking if the responses are accurate and sensible. Fine-tuning the model may be necessary to improve its performance by adjusting parameters or using additional training data. Finally, you can implement the trained model in your chatbot application to interact with users.

Integrating the Chatbot into a Messaging Platform

In order to integrate your chatbot into a messaging platform like Facebook Messenger or Slack, you need to connect it to these channels. This means setting up the necessary connections so your chatbot can receive user messages and respond in real time. It's important to handle user input properly, understand what they're asking or saying, and provide appropriate answers or actions.

When integrating your chatbot, you also need to consider security and authentication. This involves ensuring only authorized users can access your chatbot and protecting the data exchanged between the chatbot and users.

Adding Advanced Features

To add advanced features to your chatbot, you can make it smarter and more personalized. Natural language understanding allows the chatbot to understand better what users are saying, even if they use different words or sentence structures. Sentiment analysis helps the chatbot understand the emotions behind user messages.

You can also incorporate context and personalization to make the chatbot's responses more relevant and tailored to each user. This means taking into account previous interactions and remembering user preferences.

Finally, you can extend your chatbot's functionality by integrating it with external services and APIs. This allows your chatbot to perform tasks like retrieving information from databases, accessing weather data, or interacting with other applications and systems.

Testing and Iteration

Once you've built a chatbot in Python, it's important to test it to make sure it behaves correctly and gives appropriate responses. Try different scenarios and check if the chatbot understands and responds accurately. Gathering user feedback is also crucial to understanding how the chatbot can be improved. 

By listening to users' experiences and insights, you can make iterative changes to enhance the chatbot's performance. Additionally, monitoring metrics like response time and user satisfaction helps you track how well the chatbot is working.

Deployment and Maintenance

After testing and refining your chatbot, it's time to deploy it to a real-world environment where users can interact with it. This involves making the chatbot available through a website or messaging platform. Once deployed, you need to handle updates, fix any bugs that may arise, and listen to user feedback to continue improving the chatbot. 

Monitoring the chatbot's performance over time is important by analyzing metrics like response accuracy and user satisfaction. By observing its performance, you can optimize the chatbot to provide the best possible experience to users.

Conclusion

Building a chatbot in Python from scratch involves some steps:

You must set up a development environment and install the necessary libraries, such as NLTK and TensorFlow.

You create a dataset of questions and corresponding responses.

You preprocess the data by tokenizing and vectorizing it. 

After that, you design and train a machine learning model using the dataset, such as a sequence-to-sequence model. Finally, you deploy the chatbot and test it with user inputs.

In conclusion, the journey of building a chatbot is limitless, marked by continuous exploration and experimentation. Incorporating advanced techniques, expanding data, and leveraging Python development services, like those offered by Finoit under the visionary leadership of CEO Yogesh Choudhary, ensures a tailored and innovative chatbot experience, poised for future advancements.

[bunnis-monsters]

Ball python naga that is like a puppy in snake form. Follows you around and needs constant attention and affection or he’ll die(not really… but he’ll act like it).

He’s such a snuggly thing, always wanting you to scratch and rub his scaly lower half and pump his two, throbbing cocks.

He loves when you actually try taking both of them in your warm, fat cunt. It makes him pant and slide his tongue over your neck.

If you get too far away from him he’ll start whining and give you puppy dog eyes until you come back, then he coils his body around you and purrs as he nuzzles into your neck. So… he’s very clingy.

You’re his love… and he’s your puppy… even if he is actually a snake.

[pasukiyo]

BOUND TO ME

demon!tom riddle x female!reader word count: 3,851 warnings: smut, mirror sex, dub-con, edging, orgasm denial, p in v sex synopsis: there is an entity, a monster, a demon living within her mirror. the mirror, which had found its way into her bedroom above her father's butcher shop peculiarly, is the only place he can be seen, only place he can be felt...

 His whispers slither through her bedroom in the shadows and to her ears, coiling like a python around her throat. 

 She was foolish to think she could ever resist him.

 The evidence of her attempts lie in fragments of broken glass on the floor and when he laughs, she imagines he has the tongue of a serpent, gooseflesh creeping down her arms when he hisses. 

 “Foolish girl,” he whispers in the dark and she shivers because she knows he is here, knows he is close, and knows he is seething. “You thought you could wash your hands of me.”

 She hugs the sheets closer to her chin, squeezes her eyes shut, willing slumber to take her into its arms, thinking maybe it will save her from him. Still, she is cold because he is there and he’s right: she is a fool. She’s foolish for thinking she could will him away in the first place. Foolish for thinking smashing the mirror, his portal into her world was enough to keep him away. 

 “You severely underestimate me, and your stupidity will be your demise. You think there is anywhere in the world you can be where I won’t find you? I am always with you. You are bound to me,” she recalls him once saying into the night, many moons ago. “Besides, let’s face it: this tether between us turns you on. You lie to yourself every time you think you do not want me, and your body proves you wrong every time.”

 Her teeth chatter inside her mouth and she has to sink them into the inside of her cheeks to quell the noise. All is quiet in her bedroom but she knows he must be there, looming, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He is a basilisk— and she knows how perfectly she will break for him, should he so much as breathe on her. 

 She is vulnerable now, in her nightgown, doing her very best to not weep while she clutches the bedsheets to her chin, praying sleep will take her away. She is entirely too weak, too feeble to be trusted, should he come closer, should she feel his breath rolling like smoke down her flesh, should he touch her. Even now, her body aches to betray her. 

 Remember how well he pleases you, a low, oily voice sounds from somewhere within. A dent forms between her brows and her breath shakes, lips trembling. You long to be touched, even now. Look at you, already dripping from the mere thought of being taken. 

 She squeezes her thighs closer together, trying to rid herself of the ache at her center as if to prove her own body wrong. 

 She does not want this. She does not want him. 

 And yet…

 “And yet, here you lay, wishing for some silly mercy, thinking it will keep me away.”

 She nearly leaps from her skin at the voice, her eyes snapping open as she pushes herself upright. She pants, glancing wide-eyed around her bedroom, searching for him, for any trace there could be. The only thing that moves is her heaving chest and the curtains over her window, blowing wistfully in the wind. 

 She trembles, following the moonlight to where it shines on the floor, on the shattered remains of her mirror. She presses her lips together and inhales, trying to reassure herself that she is safe, that he cannot get to her now, his only gateway being broken. He cannot harm her now. He cannot break her with his touch, for not even a fingernail will scratch her, not even his breath will grace her skin. 

 Her eyes flutter closed and she takes another deep breath and when her eyes open again, there is nothing in her darkened bedroom save for the moonlight. 

 She is safe. She has nothing to fear. She is alone but she is safe. She is safe. She has nothing to fear. 

 It is eerily silent, save now for her soft murmurings of assurances beneath her breath as she settles back down into her mattress, slowly pulling the sheets back to her chest. She tries to tame her uneasy heart, staring into the moonlit wooden ceiling above and when she believes she is ready, she closes her eyes, praying again that sleep will come. 

 Please. Let sleep come. 

 She thinks for a moment she must really, truly be at peace when she hears nothing irregular, nothing to warrant terror. She puckers her lips and blows one more spout of air out before she allows herself to relax further into the bed. Certainly sleep should come a little easier now. 

 Snickering.

 Her eyelids snap back open when she hears his snickering, curling like vines around her ears, its thorns piercing through her skin. Her heart pounds against her chest and she pushes herself upright again, searching her bedroom for him. Still, everything is as it was before, everything down from the dark ceiling to the dresser to the curtains billowing in the wind to the shards of—

 Her lips press themselves together and tremble, her eyes widening and limbs shaking as she peers down to the shards of glass scattered along the floor. She sees him there, broken fragments of his face but he is there and he is laughing at her, mocking her for her sheer stupidity. 

 “You are even more of a fool than I initially took you for,” he snickers and she whimpers, shaking, unable to move. “I told you your stupidity would be your end.”

 She watches in a mixture of horror and anticipation as the fractured pieces of glass on the floor move, little pieces coming together in the wooden frame of the mirror, now sat upright. The last thing she sees is his stare, his wickedly dangerous stare fragmented by cracks in the glass before she closes her eyes, unable to face what will come next. 

 She hears scraping against the floor and then nothing— everything goes still again, as if she’s alone, as if he is not there. 

 She would not fall for her own stupidity again. He is there. She knows it. She’s uncertain whether he’s close or far but he is just there, existing in the same space she is. 

 She presses her lips tighter together, her eyes remaining closed, her heart stuttering in her chest. All she hears now is her own breath and her uneasy heart but still, she does not open her eyes. 

 And then a hiss, just like a python’s, coils around her neck, around her throat, circling all the way back to her ears, “your fate rests with me. You belong to me, you are bound to me. Do not resist your desire— it calls to me while you weep, proclaiming you do not want me.”

 A fingertip against her throat is what makes her eyes snap open. She yelps when his hand locks around her throat, her own instinctively reaching for him. He leans in close behind her and there, at the base of her bed sits the mirror and there is where he is, looming behind her like a shadow, dark face split with a wicked grin.

 “You feel it now already, don’t you?” He hisses into her ear before his lips graze her neck and her lips fall apart, gasping for the air he’s stolen from her lungs. 

 She is at his mercy, quite literally in the palms of his hands, her fate his to break and mend as he pleases. It’s terrifying— and yet, a part of her finds it equally electrifying, teetering on the edge between peril and pleasure. She curses herself, condemns herself for how easily she is swayed, how easily she is broken. 

 Perhaps this is solely the reason why the mirror found her, why it chose her, why he chose her. She is weak. She is ungrounded. She’s a masochist in every sense of the word, despite how desperately she’s tried to deny it. She’s in love with the way he makes her feel, in love with the way he talks to her, touches her, takes her. It’s painful, it’s humiliating, it is blasphemy, is what it is, her desire for her demon. 

 Tom is her shame, he is everything about herself she wished to forget and wished to unbecome. He must have sensed this, all those moons ago when his mirror found its place into her tiny bedroom above her father’s butcher shop. He sensed this ruthlessness, this ferality, this desire she’s kept stowed away that’s been bursting at the seams, eager to be unleashed and he did just that, giving her an outlet to indulge in all her darkest of fantasies. 

 Really, what he is doing should be seen as a mercy, a gift. 

 Nobody could ever please her the way Tom does, after all. 

 “You desire me already, don’t you?” He purrs with a voice as slick as oil, dripping with derision. She watches the mirror, shivering as his hand drops from her throat and she gasps for air as he traces a path from her collarbone to her chest with the tip of his forefinger, skirting the neckline of her nightgown. She feels it and it is there, existing in her mirror yet, he is not quite there in her world. Her wide-eye gaze fixes on the mirror, her only way of knowing who and what it is making her feel this way.

 “Here. You feel it here,” he whispers, that fingertip of his tracing a circle around the peaked nipple over the top of her gown, right over her stuttering heart. It beats for him and he knows it, can feel it beneath his finger. She watches through the mirror as a corner of Tom’s lips curve in a smirk, his hungry stare finding hers through the glass. 

 “And you feel it…” he trails off, the fingernail of that forefinger suddenly no longer human, but a talon, like the sharp claw of a crow and he uses it to tear a line from the center of her neckline, all the way down to her skirt. She yelps, looking down at her bodice as her gown rips at the hand of an invisible force and it is not until she feels his warm palm against the bottom of her belly, dangerously close to where she burns most for him. “…here as well.”

 He presses down on her belly, not much but enough to have her teetering on the edge of utter madness, muscles locked in anticipation. She tosses her head back and Tom snickers again as she whimpers, feeling herself pulse where she wants, no, needs him most. He rubs circles into the flesh below her belly, inching closer to her core agonizingly slow, nearly enough to tip her over the brink of insanity. 

 “How greedy you become, by the mere touch of my hand– the hand of a monster, as you put it, yes?” He sneers, his breath rolling like smoke down along the expanse of her neck. She peers back up at the mirror, watching as he dips his mouth to her collarbone, feeling his breath, his lips as they graze against her skin. It sends shivers slithering down the coil of her spine and now she knows her basilisk has her under his spell now.

 Her chest heaves against his arm as Tom teases her, his fingertip stroking back and forth along the bottom of her belly. He clicks his tongue, almost pitiably when he pulls his hand away and she whimpers, nerves uneasy due to the lack of his touch. 

 “But that’s not all you want, is it?” He whispers coolly into the space between them, his voice rolling over her skin and leaving chills in its wake. She glances back to the mirror, watching his dark gaze as it disappears behind her head, reappearing on the other side of her face. She feels him breathe against her other ear, her lips trembling, her core aching. “You long to be burned from within, to be branded, for me to take what is rightfully mine and mark you so even dear old dad will know of your treachery.”

 Tears that have since merely pooled in the bottom of her sockets begin to shed, drop after drop sliding down her cheeks as she tries to find a balance between her fear and desire. She knows she will not be able to resist him, not tonight, but she still has some sense of honor. She will not be weak. She will face him with courage, however little. 

 Tom sneers at this. He clicks his tongue again, “poor thing. Is that not what you want? To be claimed for everyone to see?” He asks, the tip of his finger drawing circles in the valley between her breasts. She shudders beneath his touch but still, she hardens her gaze, mustering enough courage to meet his dark, melting stare. The corners of his lips curve and he chuckles, “bold little thing. You wish to be fucked.”

 His hand finds her chin and she yelps as his fingertips press down into her cheeks. He forces her gaze to lock on his through the mirror and she watches as his other hand slashes clean through the rest of her nightgown, leaving her completely exposed. The moonlight glistens on her skin as his hand forces her thighs apart, her sex glistening crudely in the starlight. 

 “Look at this,” he snickers, dipping his middle and forefinger between her thighs, brushing against her slit, enough to coat them evenly in her slick. Her toes curl and she gasps, tossing her head back where it bumps into his shoulder. “So ready to be tamed. Bred, potentially.”

 She thinks she will die from anticipation. It started as a simple flame, kindled in the pit of her belly but it has since blossomed into a blazing inferno, strong enough to make her feel like she is melting from the inside out. His graces against her skin were little bits of coal plunging into the depths of her inferno and she erupted in turn, like a volcano breaking from its dormancy. 

 Tom brings his fingers, covered with the evidence of her desire, to her lips, forcing them into her mouth and she moans around them, swirling her tongue greedily, like a starved wolf around them. He breathes and it sounds more like a growl, dropping the hand gripping her chin to slap her aching clit, her body jolting as if struck by a crack of lightning. 

 “Yes,” he purrs. “So desperate to be filled. I wonder though, will this greedy cunt of yours be ready for my cock?”

 She merely stares at him, hoping her look is pleading enough for him. 

 He snickers. 

 She swallows as he pulls his fingers away from her mouth. 

 “I believe you are fully capable of speaking,” he sneers. “So use your words.”

 Her mouth opens and closes, her mind numb, void of anything that does not involve impurity. She blinks helplessly at her own reflection, brows knitting when she finds her gaze again. He clicks his tongue, “pity. I cannot give you what you want if you do not ask for it.”

 Her mouth suddenly feels dry, the words she tries to muster like sandpaper against her throat and tongue. Her cheeks burn in shame as she tries to say something, to produce any sort of sound. 

 “I—“

 “Nicely,” he interrupts, his voice like a crack of thunder in her otherwise still bedroom. “Ask me nicely.”

 She purses her lips, willing herself to breathe, at least, she best she’s able to manage. The tip of Tom’s forefinger circles mindlessly just above her clit and it pulses, aches, screams for mercy.

 She swallows down her shame, every ounce of honor left in her. This will have to be mercy enough. 

 “Please,” she begins, her voice ashamedly high, feeble. “I… I need to feel you.”

 Perhaps he hadn’t expected her to relent so easily. Or perhaps he was merely teasing her. 

 She does not feel him and when she looks into the mirror, she does not see him, uncertain if he is even there at all. A cold creeps along her legs, trailing up her hips to her arms where her weary bones catch a chill, locking her in place. She hears nothing but her own breath, her own heart beating against her chest. Her stare locks on the mirror at the foot of her bed because she knows this is not the end— he is still here, a predator in the dark, circling his prey, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. 

 Silence. 

 She thinks a cold perspiration has begun to bead at her forehead. Her brow furrows, the pressure so intense in her head and when she looks at herself in the mirror, she can see the prominent outline of a vein on her forehead. A gasping hiccup escapes her chest as more tears stream down her face, praying this torment will come to an end soon. 

 When will he strike? 

 She hears something move to her left and she yelps, the hair standing erect on her arms and neck but it is only her curtains, blown just a little harder by a sudden strong gust of wind. She wills herself to breathe again, focusing on slow inhales and exhales as she turns again to face the mirror. 

 Before she can even make sense of what she sees, before a gasp or a cry or a scream can reach her tongue, she is pushed forward until her face is smushed against the mattress. She yelps into the bed, feeling her torn nightgown being ripped from her body before she feels something, someone, a force behind her, pressing against her ass. As soon as she feels he is there behind her, she feels the length of him press into her entrance, filling her up with a single primal thrust. 

 Her knuckles bend around her bedsheets and she cries out into her mattress, too muffled to have possibly been heard by anyone outside of her bedroom. She expects there to be pain at her center where she is split open, just barely managing to fit the entire length of him inside of her but all she feels is bliss— burning white hot bliss. 

 “That’s right,” he coos somewhere behind her ear, another angry thrust making her grip the sheets tighter, her fingers on the bed and his long, warm hands gripping her hips being her only anchor. “Lose yourself in me. Forget who you are and think only of me.”

 It is not difficult when her mind is already dough, each seething, primal thrust of his hips against her ass molding her into different shapes, twisting every single thought inside her brain until they are solely his name. 

 Tom. Tom. Tom. Tom. 

 “Tom!” She yowls, trying to lift her head from the sheets but being forced back down by his hand gripping the tendrils of her hair, using them as reins to hold her down. 

 “You thought you could rid yourself of me,” he hisses, ramming his cock harder inside of her, bruising that delicate spot so deep inside her where no man ever reached before. “What were you going to do had you succeeded? Hm? Found yourself a husband? Let him have you like this? Let him fuck you full of his little bastards?”

 She’s nothing to say and even if she did, she wouldn’t be able to. All she can think is how good she feels, how well it feels to be so completely and utterly lost in this bliss, to be wrapped around her monster, her demon, her shame’s cock. She can hardly even focus on the words he speaks now. 

 Using the grip he has on her hair, he lifts her head and when he tells her to open his eyes, she can just barely make out his face beside hers through the reflection of the mirror. Her vision is blurry and with each piston of his hips, more stars dot her eyes but she still obeys, unwilling to let go of this pleasure she feels now for even a second. She is just as he says she is— she is greedy, she is ravenous, she is an animal. 

 Perhaps, they are much more alike than she’d care to admit. 

 “Did you think you’d find yourself another man who could make you feel as good as you do now?” Tom asks, his voice dripping with oily derision and she hangs on every word he says, breathing in his voice like a vapor. “There is no one else in this world good enough for you. No other man could do the things I do to you and you know it.”

 He drops her head and it falls pitifully back to the mattress. She cannot find it within herself to muster enough strength to lift it back up so she simply clutches the sheets as each thrust becomes angrier, more feral. 

 “How can you be so stupid?” He growls as he ridicules her, taking her so deeply, so hungrily that she cannot even bring herself to feel shame, her humility never once even crossing her mind. Her eyes roll back and her body is practically limp in his hands, a weak, pliant mess held together by a demon’s cock. 

 She feels so close to the edge she quite literally bursts into tears, soaking the bed sheets beneath her face. Her release is blinding white light that seems so close, a mere arm’s length away. Tom’s growl is like a roar as he spills himself inside of her, so deep she thinks she can feel him in her belly— and it might very well be true. 

 It’s just what she needs to come. She loses control of her body, the trigger of her orgasm the last thing she needs to release. Her finger curls around that trigger but just before she can pull it, his cock is gone, leaving nothing but his seed that oozes out of her cunt like rivers of hot magma as evidence for their deed. Tom drags her head up by her hair, forcing her to face him yet again through the mirror. 

 She hates him. A million curses materialize on the tip of her tongue but none come to fruition, not when she meets his gaze, so intense, it pierces through her skin like sharp ice that frosts over her bones. 

 “Did you think you’d get to come?” He clicks his tongue, feigning pity. “Poor thing. Unfortunately, as far as I’m concerned, insolent little brats do not deserve to be rewarded. Perhaps when you learn to behave, you will earn your release.”

 He lets go of her hair and she cries as her face meets the mattress again and her bedroom grows cold again and she knows that this time, he is truly gone. 

 And when she finally gathers enough strength to look at herself in the mirror, there her reflection was— staring back at her, toppled over, fucked out, and alone. 

a/n: its been so long since i last wrote for tom and i had just finished my rewatch of Nosferatu and then this thing was born LMAOOOO i hope you all enjoy it though 🤭

🪞 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! your feedback is always appreciated 🫶

TAGLIST:

@your-nanas-house

@sallowsarchives

@michelle-26

@iamthejam

@lyis

[dont-look-me-in-the-eye]

okay so i ended up turning to the dark side and programming it in swift 😔 the funny thing is that by now i've memorized much weight goes on the bar, so we kinda lost the plot there. However! it is done and it was a fun experience. i can say that i fully developed and tested a simple app to go on my phone. it'll be depolyed SomeTime in the future. i had fun with this one, even though i hate xcode to my core

hmmm looks like we're going with kivy because i am NOT FUCKING using SHADOW REALM javascript

[moon-ttokki-x]

minty - bf!han jisung x female reader

pairing: han jisung x female reader

summary: when everything bursts into flames, there will always be someone to put it out.

genre: fluff, idol! au, heavy on the angst, panic attack, sensory overload, anger outburst out of frustration, negative thoughts, inferiority complex, feeling left behind. this one is a little sadder, not my usual writing, so read ahead at your own risk.

a/n: kinda having a bad time rn so i wrote this. also my masterlist just deadass stopped working so i have to remake it TT new masterlist will be up soon don't panic guys

You're laying on the floor face-down when Jisung comes home from the company.

He enters your shared bedroom, humming a new unreleased track, and finds you near to the floor-to-ceiling window, curled up in a ball. Your jacket is tossed somewhere behind you and you're not even aware that Jisung is home until he bends down and taps your shoulder.

"Jagi," he says, smiling in greeting.

You don't turn. Your head feels like it's made of lead and you can't seem to find the energy to even twitch a finger. And you feel bad because you know Jisung is tired too, and here you are, ignoring him because you're selfish and lazy and not good enough for anything-

"Y/n," Jisung says again, a little softer.

You do turn your head then. It's not much of a turn, to be honest; more like a slow, sluggish effort to move your head to the right. Your look over your shoulder and he's sitting there, knees to his chest, smiling down at you.

His headphones are slung around his neck as per usual, the headphone cord wrapped loosely around his wrist. His blue hair is flopping attractively into his eyes and the neckline of his band shirt slips a little to the left, revealing a sliver of collarbone.

Some of the skin there is slightly red, and you know it's because he probably worked out his shoulders and torso before coming back home.

You feel even worse at the thought of him working out; why can't you be the same? Why can't you just get up and be productive and multitask and live a good life and be happy like everyone else? Like him? Was that sort of thing not meant for you? Success and friendships and contentment and normalcy?

Because here is Jisung, so many achievements under his belt, so many talents and aspirations and thoughts and dreams, and there you are behind him, struggling to keep up with even the simplest of tasks in your own life.

And it's not just him; lately it feels like everyone else is sprinting ahead, while you're lagging behind, confused. Winded. Out of breath.

Losing energy.

It feels the same even now. Usually making eye contact and being close to Jisung fills you with strength, but today it seems even he can't wash away your thoughts. You wonder how bad it can be if even Jisung, your number one supporter, can't seem to even slightly unclasp the boulder shackles from around your ankles.

And the yet-again nagging thought of always being left behind culminates the peak of your bottled desperation.

And everything is Wrong.

The floor feels rough and uncomfortable all of a sudden, grating against your skin, scratching at the pores, and your clothes are too tight and restricting, digging into the soft curves and peaks of your figure, tightening around you like a python winds about its prey.

Jisung is still sitting there next to you; he must have realised you didn't feel like talking. He's staring out the window, still singing softly to the track, gaze unfocused but content. He understands; he has days like yours too. But right now it feels different, and suddenly you want nothing more than for him to just leave. To just go.

And that thought makes you feel awful.

You feel all hot and irritated like you've been put into an oven on high heat, and you rake a hand through the limp strands of your hair, the tickling flyaways suddenly causing a sudden surge of boiling hot frustration to pour through your veins.

Everything goes up in flames and before you know it, you're shoving Jisung's hand away and storming into the living room, throwing yourself down on the couch and then violently tossing yourself about because even touching the couch feels Wrong too. The leather sticks to your skin and the shuffling sounds are too noisy and sound more like nails being dragged down a chalkboard.

You let out a half-hearted scream and even that feels pathetic. Like you've tried to blow a whistle and all that came out was a sad little wheeze. The noise floats into the air and absorbs into the stillness. You want to scream again but it won't help; no matter how much noise you make, it will never be enough to quiet the wildfires searing across your nerves and seemingly into the core of your brain.

But the flames begin to sizzle, and like all fires do, it begins to die down.

You're left in the smoldering aftermath; the human form of it, anyway, which consists of sobbing like a child face-down in the couch, your body draped uncomfortably across the lounge.

It's almost an hour before Jisung tiptoes into the living room; he peeks over the back of the couch before cautiously moving to sit in front of you, about a metre away. And it's not that he's afraid of your sudden outburst, no, not at all. He knows not to touch you for now, to keep a distance, so as not to trigger you further.

He's silent for a moment; you miserably raise your head, a picture of defeat, eyes puffy and red with tears. You sniff and scrub at your face, wanting to get rid of the Feeling, the one that makes your jaw feel all sour and your head dizzy, the way it always feels after you cry.

Jisung chides you softly, gently reaching out to smooth a singular finger over the irritation you've caused across the delicate skin of your cheekbones. He's testing the water, so when nothing bursts out to bite his hand off, and the temperature seems reasonably cool, he moves just a little closer and gently pats your shoulder.

"What's wrong?" he says softly, almost inaudibly.

"Everything," you sob, the sound causing a terrible racking pain through Jisung's chest. It sounds so hollow, so lonely and desperate.

And yet so filled with hope, but hope that is slowly dying, losing its intensity, like you know in your heart that utilizing it won't really help anything. At least not anymore.

You don't expect Jisung to understand. How could he ever, when the terrible, tumultuous storm of horrible thoughts and feelings in your head is making it hard to understand yourself in the first place?

And you're right. Jisung doesn't understand. He looks bewildered but also empathetic. He looks the way people look when they sort of expect something to happen but it still shocks them when it does.

So he sits, not understanding but also knowing, and strokes your shoulder, keeping the rhythm of it, smooth and constant and flowing, dousing the flames, ever so slowly.

And you can't even try to explain how you feel, or what's wrong, and you can't even find it in yourself to apologise for so violently bursting out at him, but the look in Jisung's eyes tell you that no words are necessary. Not from you anyway.

"I love you," he says quietly after a while, still soft, still a little bit bewildered. But there is no doubt in his words.

And a weak, watery smile manages to tug at the corners of your mouth. At least you think it does; in reality, your face doesn't move an inch, still drawn tensely in rife and despair. But something in your eyes shifts slightly and Jisung knows you well enough to know what that shift means.

The searing flames die down completely, the ash rising and dissipating into a quiet, still, air, and when Jisung draws his hand back, his fingers are stained in still-warm charcoal.

You look at him, still heaving and exhausted; he smiles a tiny bit, like he's not sure whether it might set you off again or make you feel worse. But he does anyway, and the air begins to feel a lot cooler around you as he speaks.

"I brought you something from the company," he whispers, his fingers dancing along the thick seams of the leather couch.

You blink once, slowly, the movement taking a ridiculous amount of energy, which has dwindled to its last stores.

Jisung smiles, almost uncharacteristically shyly, and draws a little rectangular tin out of his dark, worn jeans. He lifts it to your eye level and holds it out on his palm.

On closer inspection, you see it's a little container, the plastic dyed a cool blue-green. There's a small flap on the top for flicking open and dispensing what looks like little sweets.

"Peppermints," Jisung says softly, a little shyly. "They help me when I feel all shaky and irritable. Chan-hyung keeps a pack in his bag for me too, just in case I start feeling anxious at events or concerts... maybe it'll help you too."

You sniff and let him put one of the mints on your palm. You lift it to your mouth and the sensation is immediately refreshing, a growing, almost cool-burn that seems to ease the aching tension that's set itself into your muscles.

It tastes slightly salty from the sweat on your palms, but it disappears as you roll it over your tongue. You exhale a tense breath you didn't know you'd been holding.

You blink again, even slower, hoping that Jisung knows it means thankyou. And he seems to understand, because he tips the container up a little, taking one of the mints himself with a grin.

a/n: hello yes i would like to order one jisung please